


a house is a thing with walls

by babygotbackstrom



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:54:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babygotbackstrom/pseuds/babygotbackstrom
Summary: Selkie gives pelt. Human gives heart. Selkie takes pelt back and human, well. It’s easier to live without a pelt than to live without a heart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [screamlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/gifts), [angularmomentum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angularmomentum/gifts).



> -here we are again, eh  
> - **content warnings** for dying (but no character death), depression

“Well,” says Ovi, staring at the net on the deck.

“That’s not a fish,” says Kuzy, helpfully. 

“No, it’s not,” says Nicky and he moves forward to free the creature from the net. If it’s what he thinks it is, it’s a long way out. 

“Nicky,” says Ovi, a strong note of caution in his voice.

“I know,” mutters Nicky. “I know.”

He cuts the creature free and is transfixed as eyes, like big, brown limpid pools, transform before his eyes, becoming blue and bleary, and a slick dark pelt gives way to mottled pink and blue skin. He doesn’t really think, beyond picking up the creature, and carrying it down to his cabin. 

He lays it on his bunk and wraps all of the blankets he can find, around it. He carefully lays its pelt out, on a chair in front of the fire, and he sends for food and hot port.

“Drink,” he tells the creature, whose gaze has become sharper, though it’s still trembling. 

The creature takes a sip and immediately starts coughing. “What is that?” it demands, looking unusually furious for a creature who’s been rescued, so far out to sea. 

“Port,” says Nicky. “Drink it. It’ll warm you up.” 

“What’s your name?” asks the creature and Nicky knows enough to know that names have power, and true names even more so. He knows enough, too, that honesty has always served him best.

“Nicky,” he says. “This is my ship.”

“It’s nice,” says the creature, eyes darting around. Nicky can see how it sighs when it sees its pelt by the fire. 

“I’ll get one of the crew to fetch a pail of sea water,” says Nicky. “I know you won’t want it to dry out too much.”

“Thank you,” says the creature. It takes another sip of port and looks a little less angered by it. 

“What is your name?” asks Nicky and the creature stares at him. As its hair dries, Nicky can see that it’s mostly blonde, which suggests it’s from more northern climes, like Nicky himself. 

“William,” says the creature, eventually.

“You’re a boy,” says Nicky, a bit stupidly, as though he had not carried William in his arms a scant half-hour before.

“I’m a selkie,” says William, indignantly. 

“Yes,” says Nicky. “And I think you’re a long way from home.”

~

When William wakes up, it’s gradual and it’s strange. He can smell the sea and he can hear wood creaking as the ship rocks, side to side. When he sits up, he can see his pelt. It’s the first thing he looks for. It’s hanging over a chair, and there is, indeed, a pail of water next to the chair. It seems that Nicky hasn’t taken any liberties in touching it and William isn’t sure how he feels about it. There’s no magic in a pelt, not the way human folk stories would have it. Hide a selkie’s pelt and they’ll just get mad but they are always free to leave. William thinks life without a pelt would be uncomfortable, though, and if Nicky had hidden his pelt, it might have been upsetting. 

His brothers always said that landfolk would take any opportunity to hide a selkie’s pelt, to keep him or her indentured to a life as a broodmare or a slave. (“But not you, William,” one of his older brothers used to say, pinching his cheek. “You’re far too ugly and too weak to keep. If a human found you, he’d throw you back.”) 

William tugs his blankets closer around him and curls up tighter. Maybe this Nicky will throw him back, but William is a long way from home and perhaps he can prove that he is as desirable as any selkie. After a few moment of courage-building breaths, William gets to his feet. 

It’s strange, being all covered in skin, with very little fat underneath. There is some hair on his forearms, and coarser hair in his armpits and at his crotch. It’s a long time since he’s taken on this human form and he has certainly changed. He’s bigger, he thinks, as he reaches down; there is a weight that wasn’t there before. William is so absorbed in examining himself that he doesn’t hear the door creak open.

“Oh.” Nicky’s voice squeaks more than it did. “You. You’re awake. Great.” William looks up and Nicky is looking at his feet. 

“Is this normal?” William asks, dragging his hand down over the skin of his abdomen, which is firm and ridged and does not have anywhere near enough blubber underneath. “How do landfolk stay warm?”

Nicky’s eyes are wide as he looks at William’s hand. 

“There’s not enough fat and there’s not enough hair,” says William, plainly. 

“Oh,” says Nicky again. “Clothes,” he says. “Here.”

Nicky holds out a bundle of fabric William reaches out and takes it from him. He looks down at it. “Thank you,” he says, belatedly. 

“Yes,” says Nicky. “You’re welcome.” He wavers, for a moment, swaying from foot to foot. “I think it might be wise if you stay here for a day, or so. So the crew can get used to the idea of you being on the ship.” 

William thinks this sounds like a good idea. Nicky is showing no signs of wanting to throw William overboard but there are other men, up on the deck, who may feel differently. 

“Your pelt,” says Nicky. “I didn’t know what to do with it so. Perhaps put it somewhere safe.”

It is only when Nicky excuses himself, with all due awkwardness, that William realises that he genuinely has no idea how these clothes work. He decides that he probably doesn’t have to wear anything if he doesn’t want to and he puts the clothes on the chair. Good riddance to them; they’re heavy and scratchy and complicated. He reaches out and touches his pelt. It’s dry now, and a little firm, but he folds it up and looks for somewhere to keep it. Under Nicky’s pillow seems like a safe place. 

He climbs back into bed, which is like a little cocoon, still warm from his own body heat, and he promptly falls asleep. 

~

“ _What_ are you doing?” hisses Ovi.

It is never good for a sea captain to admit to his crew, even to a first mate as loyal as Ovi, that he doesn’t have a clue.

“I don’t have a clue,” says Nicky. “I couldn’t just throw him back. We’re so far out.”

Ovi blinks. “You couldn’t throw a selkie … into the ocean … where he lives.”

“He could have been injured! He was all tangled up.”

“Sure, Nicky,” says Ovi. “And now that you know he’s not injured, you’ll throw him back, right?”

“Well, he’s asleep right now,” says Nicky. He’s pretty sure it would be a major breach of selkie etiquette to wake Willam up. “In any case, I’d like to find out how on earth he came to be so far out.”

“In the ocean … where he lives.” 

Nicky scowls at Ovi but it seems to have zero effect. 

“Nicky,” says Ovi, and it’s clear he’s trying to be somewhat gentle. “I just don’t want any repeats of what happened with Dima and the siren.”

“I’ll drink to that,” says Nicky. “No, seriously. Give me your goddamned canteen. I know you’ve got some rum left.” 

Following a couple of nips of rum, and a little more good-natured teasing from Ovi about being a good host to their selkie guest, Nicky decides that discretion is the better part of valour and he should probably go to bed. 

He makes his way down to his cabin. The fire is burning low and there are gentle snores coming from his bunk. Nicky smiles to himself. He quickly strips down to his underclothes, not wanting to wait for the cabin to cool down any more, and he eases into the bunk, leaving what he thinks is a polite distance between him and William.

Polite only counts for so much when he wakes up, only a few hours later, to the unusual situation of being half-throttled. William must be used to sleeping close to others, Nicky thinks in a daze. He drops his hand to clasp William’s elbow which only encourages the selkie, who curls in closer and tighter and bare-legged. Cautiously, Nicky moves his hand along William’s upper arm, to his shoulder, to confirm his suspicion. Apparently, William has foregone clothes. 

Nicky swallows thickly and considers attempting to sleep in the chair but he has been at sea long enough to know that good sleep is essential for good voyaging; an unexpected storm and one might expect to lose a great many nights’ sleep. As gently as he can, he extricates himself from William and nudges him over to the other side of the admittedly narrow bunk. William makes a small sound that somehow sounds disgruntled, for all that he’s asleep, and one leg is still draped over Nicky’s shin but he thinks that’s the best he can do, for now.

When Nicky wakes up again, shortly before dawn, William has re-engaged. His cheek is resting on Nicky’s chest and his hair tickles Nicky’s nose. Nicky can’t possibly explain why his arms are around William or how he can begin to disentangle himself. He’s not sure whether it’s fortunate or not that William stirs and rubs his face against Nicky’s undershirt. 

“Oh,” William breathes out, his hold on Nicky tightening for a moment. “Oh, I have never slept in this body before.” 

Nicky can’t help smiling. “No?”

 

“No. It was always _put your pelt back on, William, you’ll catch your death if you go out in skin_.”

William pulls one arm out from under the covers and pats Nicky’s quilt. “I like your pelt.”

Nicky frowns and wonders if William is teasing him. 

“The colours are very pretty,” says William. “It’s a bold choice. I like it.” He sighs again and lays his head on Nicky’s chest once more. 

Probably not teasing, thinks Nicky, and he wonders what it is about William that bewilders him so. He is not a siren, after all, and Nicky is not Dima. 

“I’ll find breakfast,” says Nicky, and he shuffles out of bed. He can’t help looking back at William, who smiles at him cheerily before he stretches. Nicky is suddenly reminded that William is entirely naked. 

The ship’s rations are down to cured meats, and biscuit, and occasionally fresh fish. They are returning from delivering goods to a distant island, and the hold is filled with dried fruits and bales of cotton. 

Brooks, presiding over the galley this morning, wisely says nothing to Nicky when he fetches twice his usual rations. It is disconcerting that, as he walks through the ship - _his_ ship - there is silence, beyond the usual _Cap’n_. Word travels fast, especially when there are unexpected passengers. 

William is sitting by the fire and he is not entirely naked, by some miracle (though Nicky cannot tell if it is the good or the bad kind of miracle; at sea, miracles are often both, or neither. He is wearing one of Nicky’s sweaters and it is comically big on him, slipping off on shoulder but, mercifully, reaching his mid-thighs.

“I don’t know what you eat,” says Nicky, offering William a plate. “But try it?”

William picks up a piece of meat between his index finger and thumb and sniffs at it. Nicky isn’t sure if he’s imagining sharp teeth as William opens his mouth and swallows it. 

~

Hiding a selkie’s pelt does not condemn the selkie to servitude but offering a selkie food, especially if that selkie has entrusted his pelt for safe-keeping? That is when it becomes complicated. 

William sleeps for much of the day. Being in human form is exhausting, and strange, and William thinks he should be pining for his pod more than he is. 

As night falls, which is early this far north and this late in the year, William makes his way up to the deck. It is strange to feel the movement of the waves, dampened by creaking wood and metal. William is barefoot and the deck is slippy and when he reaches Nicky’s side, he slides against him and is gratified beyond reason when Nicky catches him and leaves an arm anchored around William’s waist. 

“Did you sleep?” asked Nicky.

“Yes,” says William, rubbing his cheek against Nicky’s shoulder. Nicky is wearing a similar pelt. It is a little scratchy but it smells like him, and like the sea, so William is comforted. It is not brightly coloured, like the pelt they slept under, but rather a pale grey. “I like sleeping.”

One of the other two-legs-all-skin men (William thinks male; he thinks they are all male on this boat), snorts. “Sleeping _is_ good,” says the man, rubbing his cheek. William wonders what the difference is, between the men who have fur on their faces, like him, and men like Nicky, whose chins are a little prickly. William raises a hand to touch his own cheek. It is smooth and a little cold. He shivers and presses closer to Nicky. 

“Let’s get you a blanket,” says Nicky, and that seems to be order enough for one of the younger men to run off. 

“So,” says the big and furry man, with brown and grey speckled hair. “You’re a selkie.”

“Yes,” says William. “And you are a human man?” He does not mean to sound uncertain but William has never encountered non-selkie people before, and he has heard that there are a great many skin-changers in the wide world. 

“We think so,” says one of the other men.

“ _Kuzy_ ,” says Nicky, a little reproachfully. “Yes, William. Ovi is a human man. We all are. You are unique.”

Unique. William thinks he likes that word, at least the way that Nicky says it. He knows he’s different from his brothers; they say it to him often enough, that he is not much to look at and probably will never thrive away from the pod, but Nicky wraps a blanket around his shoulders and smiles at him and William is so grateful that this was the ship to find him when he was floundering. 

“I am not a very good selkie,” says William, slowly. 

“We are not always very good men,” says Nicky. 

“Well, that’s a lie,” says Ovi. “Nicky is the best of us, William. Stick with him and you’ll be fine, till we can return you to your pod.” 

William nods and leans against Nicky’s side. He hopes that it won’t be too soon. 

~

“Is this an adventure?” asks William, later that night. He has wriggled out of the scratchy pelt and is curled up with Nicky in Nicky’s bed. Nicky asked him earlier if he would like his own bed but William could not see the attraction of loneliness. 

“What do you mean?” asks Nicky, after a moment of quietly passing his hand over William’s upper arm, gently stroking William’s skin in a way that makes William want to press closer still. 

“Traveling in this ship. Is it an adventure?”

“Well, for my men, and for me, it’s a job. It’s a journey. We traveled a long way south and now we’re returning, as we do, every year.”

“Oh,” says William. He rests his chin on Nicky’s chest as he thinks this through. “I think it’s an adventure for me. I went too far south. I was following another ship but the storm— I am lucky I found you, I think—”

Nicky stills, the motion of his hand frozen as his fingers dig slightly into William’s shoulder. “Yes,” he says, after a moment. “I think I am lucky you found m— us, too. Not all ships are safe.”

William nods. “Not all human men are good,” he says. It is an early lesson for any selkie. Maybe no human men are good, but Nicky is kind and patient and he doesn’t even know that William’s pelt is beneath his pillow. 

He wonders what will happen if he— Nicky’s skin tastes salty, like William thought it might. Nicky barely takes a breath. “William?” he asks, quietly. His hand is in William’s hair now and William likes that. He raises his head to look at Nicky and he smiles. 

“ _You_ are good,” says William. He’s pretty sure of that. It has been a whole day and Nicky hasn’t tried to imprison him and one of Nicky’s men showed William on a map the direction they were traveling and though the map was a meaningless series of squiggles to William, he understood that they were taking a route closer to William’s home than they might have otherwise. 

Nicky’s gaze flickers down to William’s mouth and it is instinct that makes William bite his lower lip, and lick it, and surge up to press his mouth against Nicky’s mouth and it is strange and wet and tastes even better than Nicky’s skin.

Nicky whispers something. William’s name perhaps. William’s not sure. He just nods and moves closer until he is lying on top of Nicky, and they are chest to chest and William’s legs are between Nicky’s and has a creature ever been safer than this, cradled between the thighs of a good man?

William is something; he doesn’t know what he is. He thinks he’s happy but his heart is so full that it cannot be happiness alone. He can see Nicky’s smile, sharp in the moonlight, shining in through the circular window, and he touches Nicky’s cheeks with his fingertips and presses his mouth to Nicky’s again, and again, and for the first time in William’s existence, he cannot feel the motion of the sea or the great swell of the waves around him because he is so absorbed in another living creature and he would give up a thousand pelts for this feeling.

He’s never understood hauling out before, and he has never paid much attention to his brothers’ bawdy language, but, then again, he’s also still getting used to the fact that human men keep their penis on the outside of their bodies, which seems a design flaw if ever he encountered one. 

Right now, though, in this instant, with Nicky’s hand wrapped around them both, tight and slippery, William can forgive so many flaws of reproductive biology. He can forgive and forget so much, as he climaxes over Nicky’s hand.

Nicky’s breath comes faster, and louder, until it hitches and everything is slippery and Nicky is casting about to wipe his hand on something. Before he can stain his soft, colourful pelt, William grabs Nicky’s hand with both of his hands, and he cannot help it; he licks it clean, sucking each finger and Nicky looks at him, like he’s dying or disbelieving. 

“William,” sighs Nicky, after a while. “You didn’t have to—” His voice sounds a little strained.

“I wanted to,” says William, comfortable now that his head is resting on Nicky’s chest. “I wanted it all.”

“Oh,” says Nicky. “Oh, that’s— that’s so good.”

“It was so good,” says William. “I’ve never—”

Nicky’s fingers still, clenching slightly in William’s hair. “Never?”

“But I trust you,” says William. “Like I trusted you with my pelt.” 

In his head, it’s all the same. Nicky will take care of him, the way he takes care of all of his crew. He’ll take care of William’s pelt and William thinks it makes sense that he thinks about Nicky a lot, even when they’re not together. 

Nicky pulls on his hair gently so that William has to lift his head, and Nicky looks a little broken and a little lost and William scrambles up to kiss him again, and again, until they fall asleep, skin to skin.

~

 

“Land ahoy!”

It has been a week. Jakub’s cry from the crow’s nest is welcomed by most of the crew although Nicky knows that it means that William will be leaving them soon. He has charged Dima with watching for strange movement in the waves; there is probably no better man for it, given that he will be seeing his siren soon, waiting on the rocky headland near home. 

“You know what this means, Nicky,” says Ovi and, not for the first time, Nicky wonders if Ovi can read his mind. 

“I do?” he asks, calm as he can, as he hands his spyglass to Andre.

“Yes,” says Ovi, with undue glee. “It’s time to break out the grog.”

“ _Grog_ ,” mouths Nicky. “It’s perfectly respectable rum, Ovi.”

“Ethically sourced,” says Kuzy.

“Extensively sampled,” says Carly. 

“Yes,” says Nicky, waving a hand. “Fine. But at least, for the love of the gods, let there be some music.” 

“Are you going to dance?” asks Ovi. His expression is sly as he darts a glance over to where Andre is showing William how to use the spyglass, much to William’s apparent delight. William, despite the chill, has continued to forgo pants, content to wander the ship in Nicky’s long sweaters. He turns and catches Nicky’s eye, and smiles, wide and happy.

“Can we keep him?” asks Kuzy. 

“I don’t think he’s ours to keep,” says Nicky, with a twinge of regret. (It is more than a twinge; he thinks something is broken and it might be a bigger rift than he can repair.)

When the watch changes, and Brooks judges the sea to be calm enough, they bring tables up to the deck, and Andre lights lanterns and the crew gathers to drink and, yes, to dance, because they are nearly home and it is past time to pour one out for their safe passage to harbour. 

Nicky is content to sit and watch the revelry and he laughs with the rest when Ovi takes Andre for an enthusiastic turn about the deck while Kuzy plays the violin.

“What are they doing?” William appears from nowhere (not nowhere; Nicky has been aware of his presence for the whole evening, as he has flitted from group to group, curious and laughing). He rests his chin on Nicky’s shoulder.

“They are dancing.”

“It looks like fun,” says William. “Can you show me how?”

Nicky smiles a little ruefully. “I am not very good,” he admits. “Perhaps Ovi—”

“I want you,” says William and Nicky cannot say no. He allows William to pull him to his feet and guides William’s arms around his shoulders, as he puts his hands on William’s waist. 

“We listen to the music,” says Nicky. “And move with it.”

William presses close, not tearing his eyes away from Nicky’s. “Is it like what we do in your cabin?”

Nicky splutters, and then laughs. “I like to think I’m better at— well—”

“You _are_ ,” says William, with such earnestness that Nicky has to look away for a moment, and gaze across the deck, to where Ovi and Andre are dancing slower, and Jakub and Madison are dancing like youngsters at a village dance, under the watchful eye of their parents. 

Nicky dips his head to brush his lips over William’s before he spins him out for a twirl and William bursts out laughing and Nicky’s heart swells, until there is shouting and scrambling on the deck, as three enormous seals flop into their midst.

Oh, not seals—

Nicky blinks as they transform in front of him, melting into the shapes of large men with considerably more ease than William had done. 

“Give us back our brother!” says one, even as the brown in his eyes coalesces and he becomes more human, although he could never be mistaken for being fully human. 

William is holding tightly to Nicky’s arm and Nicky can feel him shaking.

“Patty, no,” says William and Nicky can see Ovi frowning. _Patty_ , he mouths. It’s not a very intimidating name for such an intimidating creature. “No, they saved me. I promise.”

“They saved you and dressed you in their clothes?” asks another selkie. He looks sceptical and Nicky thinks he understands why; all three are wearing their pelts like battle furs, draped over their shoulders, around their waists. Although they are unarmed, no one could mistake them for being anything other than very dangerous.

“It was my choice,” says William. He presses against Nicky’s side. “I gave Nicky my pelt to look after.”

The selkies look stunned. “You _gave_ this two-leg your pelt?”

Nicky puts his arm around William. “It’s safe,” he says.

“I bet it is,” growls one of the other selkies. He’s large and red-haired.

“Freddie,” says William, quietly.

 _Freddie_ , mouths Ovi. 

“Andre,” says Nicky. “Go down to my cabin. William’s pelt—”

“It’s under Nicky’s pillow,” says William. Nicky doesn’t think he’s imagining the silence that follows. 

“What?” asks William. “It’s— it’s safe there. Nicky, tell them—”

“Of course it’s safe,” says Nicky because that has been the safest place for William and all that is precious to him, and about him.

“William,” says Patty. “You— you can tell us if this two-leg—”

“He has been _kind_ to me,” says William. “K—kinder than _you_.”

Patty takes a step back, his eyes widening. “William.” He looks as though he’s about to argue when he visibly wilts. “I am sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve been unkind to you. We’ve all been so worried since you’ve been gone.”

Freddie nods, and the other large selkie, who looks as young as William nods too. Nicky lets out a breath. It means something, he thinks, that they are apologising to William, without excuses. 

“Will you come home?” asks the youngest. “Mitch misses you. It’s terrible.”

 _Mitch_. Ovi looks as though he’s going to combust; it must be killing him to stay quiet. 

“I— I miss him, too,” says William. He takes a hesitant step forward. “I miss you all.”

“Come home,” says the youngest again. “Kappy has been useless without you. We— we all miss you too.”

“What did I miss?” asks Andre. He’s carrying William’s pelt on outstretched arms, like he’s a tailor offering only the finest silks for inspection. 

“Family drama,” says Kuzy, helpfully. 

William steps entirely out of Nicky’s arms and takes his pelt from Andre. He’s still for a long moment before he turns and looks at Nicky. His eyes are shining and Nicky doesn’t think he’s imagining that they look a little darker than before.

“Nicky,” he says and he looks almost joyful and Nicky gets it. He really does. William is not human, for all that he has walked and talked like a man, for all that he has writhed and cried out in Nicky’s bed with human-seeming emotion. William is not a man; he is a selkie and he is loved by his own kind, even if they have not shown it very well. Nicky can think of one or two men like that and his gaze does not flicker to Ovi or to Kuzy. 

“William,” he says, softly. “I am glad we kept you safe.” 

He can only watch as William tugs his sweater off over his head and hands it to Andre, who looks faintly stunned. It is a blur, the way William and his pelt become one again and William’s eyes finish shifting to large and brown and entirely inhuman.

“Thank you,” says Patty, and it does not even seem that grudging. “Thank you for looking after our brother.” 

He is the last to shift back into seal form and he is the last to pitch into the ocean around them and he is the last whose head disappears beneath the waves. 

“Well,” says Ovi. “I think that’s enough for one night.”


	2. Chapter 2

Nicky can’t tell if the winter has been abnormally long but it has certainly been exhausting. Winter is a time to repair and Nicky has struggled to do that. 

Oh, he has helped repair the nets and he has slowly walked through his ship, noting every scuff and crack and every fragment of too-warped wood. The sails have been brought in and Beags has dedicated himself to examining every inch and repairing every tear. The ship herself has been dragged onto a dry dock and not a moment too soon; the day after she was secured, the harbour finally froze over. 

It has been four months and the harbour is still frozen over.

Nicky finds it hard to wake up in the mornings. He tells himself that it is because the days are so desperately short and he misses the sun but, really, he misses the sea. 

It takes him hours to fall asleep and he doesn’t think he dreams but he still wakes up with the whisper of a memory of the waves beneath him. He clutches the side of his bed for a moment but everything is devastatingly quiet and still. 

When he gets out of bed, this morning as every other morning, he sits on the edge of the bed for long minutes of breathing in and out. 

His cottage is on the headland. He has one neighbour and a view of the village and the whole harbour. It is one room, with whitewashed walls and nets hanging from the ceiling. The ashes in the stove are still smouldering and it is the work of minutes to entice it into flames again. Nicky eats breakfast because he has to. He understands that well enough. He eats and then he eyes his bed again, tucked in the corner, away from the door and the window. It’s still dark outside. Surely no one will know if he crawls back into bed, just for an hour or two.

It is, after all, a time for repair.

~

Spring comes and it is glorious. William is only too happy to haul himself out of the water and onto rocks that are nearly warm. He closes his eyes and lies there, barely even flinching when Mitch flops on top of him and grunts. 

William isn’t quite sure what’s wrong with Mitch, only that something is wrong. He has not been throwing himself about so much and he hasn’t been as inseparable from Auston as usual. Auston and Freddie have been a little insufferable, William has to admit, since last year’s hauling out. William tries to reassure Mitch that Auston’s and Freddie’s offspring won’t be terrible but he thinks he understands, distantly. He wonders, for a moment or two, what Nicky’s children might look like. William has never seen a human child and it is rare for selkie pups to shed their pelts for the first few years of life. 

William misses Nicky more than he thought he would. His pelt doesn’t smell like Nicky’s cabin anymore. The smoky smell has long since been washed away by salt water and that is hardly a bad thing. William loves the sea, but he thinks he loved that smoky smell, too. 

William sometimes fantasises about finding Nicky again but the sea is vast, and so is the north, and William doesn’t know where Nicky is from. When everything iced over, the pod moved south, just out of reach of the worst of the chill. 

He moves closer to Mitch and Mitch grunts again. It’s comfortable, William thinks, to be with someone who understands him. He drifts to sleep, in the weak spring sunshine, under Mitch’s weight and he dreams of colourful pelts and gentle rocking.

~

The thaw is creeping north. Andre is delighted by the news.. Spring is on the way, and when the last of the ice melts, they can begin preparations to get back to sea. 

Nicky’s crew all miss the sea, like a limb or a longing, and Nicky thinks that it’s stronger in the youngest crew members who still think they have so much to prove. The sea isn’t part of them yet; they’re like children whose parents have left the room and they don’t yet have the confidence that they have not been abandoned.

For Nicky, and for Ovi, the sea is in them now. They have bled and they have wept and they have washed their wounds and they know that, when their time comes, they will be sewn into sailcloth and returned to the sea. 

“Nicky,” says Ovi. “Nicky. You coming?”

Nicky blinks. He has been persuaded to go to the tavern tonight, to celebrate the rumours of spring, and he should welcome it; the promise of warmth in the air and in his blood. He will be returned to the sea. 

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, of course.” He shrugs on his coat, frowning a little that it hangs so loosely on him. Winter is a time to repair and Nicky invariably puts on weight because his crew and their wives and husbands constantly pepper him with invitations to dine with them. 

“Nicky,” says Ovi and now he is frowning, too. “Skin and bone. I don’t like it.”

“It’s been a hard winter,” says Nicky, and he’s not wrong.

“Yes, but you usually so at home in winter.”

Nicky doesn’t say anything. He prefers to keep his breath for the walk down to the village. 

“Maybe we see him again this summer,” says Ovi. 

It seems unlikely, that somehow in the vastness of the ocean, a ship and a selkie could cross paths not once, but twice.

“Maybe,” says Nicky. It’s best that he doesn’t commit to hope.

The path is steep and Ovi takes Nicky’s arm. He looks at Nicky, as though he’s daring him to argue but Nicky is too tired and too muddled to say anything. 

There’s a small cheer when they walk into the tavern and Andre immediately moves so that Nicky can have the chair by the open fire. 

“It’s spring!” says Andre, with glee. 

“Almost,” says Ovi. 

“It’s almost time to go home,” says Kuzy and it’s rare enough that he says something profound that is not also absurd, so Nicky just raises his glass and his crew follow suit. 

~

Patty and Freddie are training. William doesn’t quite get it. He stays in his selkie form, half-submerged in the water, blinking heavily in the bright, warm sunlight. 

Patty and Freddie are in their human forms, pelts in the shallow rock pools between them and William. William blows bubbles thoughtfully as his brothers grapple, and laugh.

He remembers laughing.

He tries but it comes out like a bark and both Patty and Freddie look at him for a moment before they get back to hurting each other for fun. As William lies there, Auston climbs out of the water and sheds his pelt, and Marty follows him. 

William slides lower in the water and then something bumps into his side. It’s Mitch, tucking himself tight against William’s side. William nudges his cheek against Mitch’s and they settle to watch their brothers. 

It takes a long time for them to tire. Mitch gets bored and rolls away, distracted by some birds on a distant rock. William feels cold without Mitch by his side. After a moment or two, he comes to a decision.

He inches out of the water and concentrates on shedding his pelt. For the warriors, it comes quickly; it has to be second nature if they are to protect the pod. For the lovers, it comes slow; a striptease of sorts, to distract humans for whom the line between desire and murder seems so thin and blurred. 

For William? Well, for William, it is slow and awkward as his pelt peels away to expose pale skin. His fingers shake and his thighs ache and the sun is so bright that he has to close his eyes for long moments, and everything is red behind his eyelids. He will seduce no man or woman to their deaths and he is certainly not going to beat them to death either. 

The breeze is colder now that he is standing here and the scant hair on his arms and legs stand up, ineffectively. He shivers and lifts his fingers to touch his collarbone and there barely the memory of a bruise left there by Nicky’s mouth. 

_Nicky_. William startles at the recollection of the name. He thinks he had forgotten it, though he had not forgotten Nicky’s scent or the strength in his arms or his smile. He lets his fingers linger over his throat. 

“Ha,” he says. “Ha-ha.” 

He frowns. It is not the sound he remembers. It does not sound joyous. He turns around, bewildered, and his brothers are all staring at him. 

“Do you want to—?” starts Patty. “Do you want to join in?”

William blinks at his brothers. They are all pink and sweaty and breathing heavily. He shakes his head. 

“I’m just— I’m just trying it,” he says. His voice is hoarse and his throat feels dry. He bends down and puts his pelt into the smallest rockpool. It is, after all, the smallest pelt. Words are strange. His brothers are still staring at him. He is, after all, neither warrior nor lover. He has no reason ever to shed his pelt. 

After a few moments, Patty gestures at the others. “Keep going,” he says. He walks over to William and William stares at his toenails for a while. 

“Come on, William,” says Patty. “Let’s sit a while.” He leads William over to the deepest rockpool and they both sit down, dangling their legs in the water. Like the air, it is colder than it was before. William looks at his thighs, which look almost blue and rippled with gooseflesh. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to join in?” 

“No,” says William. “No, it’s not for me. I just wanted to— remember.”

“Your two-leg?” says Patty, almost kindly. “He took good care of you.”

“Yes. He fed me, and kept me warm, and made me feel good.”

Patty nods. “And you gave him your pelt?” 

“I knew he would keep it safe.” 

“Only you would meet a two-leg and marry him in the space of a few days.” 

_Days_. William lingers on the term for a while; it is another anomaly that he has to re-learn. Days are light-dark, followed by light-dark, and Nicky had a routine for all of them. Wait. “Marry?”

Patty frowns. “You gave him your pelt freely,” he says. “And he took you to bed, did he not?”

William looks at the line of his legs and how they look different under water, further away or closer; he cannot tell. 

“It happened to a selkie I knew,” says Patty. “A very long time ago and very far from here. There was a human woman and he was washed ashore in a storm. She took care of him and when he was well, he left. He didn’t tell us, though, that he had given her his pelt, for a short time.”

“Does it matter?” asks William. 

“Do you think I’m telling you this for the good of _my_ health?” asks Patty. “He left her, within a year of their coupling—”

William does not like his human cheeks. They blush far too easily and coupling for humans seems to be a more secretive act, if not outright shameful. Humans do not haul out and breed for a short season and call it enough. 

“He did not return to her for many years and when he finally found her cottage by the sea again, he learned that she had died.”

Humans die. So do selkies. William tilts his head to the side. 

Patty huffs. He looks impatient. “She died one year after they married. He didn’t know— he was young, like you. He didn’t know that he had to stay with her for a year.”

William shakes his head. No, absolutely not. He scrambles to his feet and he looks to the east and he looks to the west and he realises he has no idea. He has no idea where Nicky might be or how long it has been. He looks down at his hands and he dimly remembers Kuzy using his fingers to count but he doesn’t know if that was time or some other weird measure of mankind. 

“Patty,” he breathes, finally looking at his brother, who is now standing, too, and looking genuinely concerned. “Why— why did no one tell me?” 

“It’s just a two-leg,” says Patty. “There are plenty more on the land.” 

“No,” says William. “ _No_. There’s only one Nicky.” 

“Oh,” says Patty. He chews on his lower lip. “Oh. You care.” 

“I— I wouldn’t have given my pelt to just anyone!” says William. He runs his hands through his hair which seems longer than before, but probably still as pointless. “How long has it been?”

William looks at his hands, but they do not help. “What’s a year?” he asks, plaintively. He does not understand human time, without Nicky to tell him _now we eat_ and _now we dance_ and _now we sleep_ and every time is a time to laugh.

“It’s four seasons,” says Patty. “You came back to us in the fall. It’s summer now.” 

“Fall is next,” says William. “Oh no, fall is next.” He looks at Patty. “If I get to him— if I get to him before the year finishes, will it be enough?”

Patty looks at him for a long moment. “I think it will be, if _you_ are enough.” 

~

Nicky’s vision is not what it was, and neither is his balance. Sometimes it feels as though he is at sea. 

There is a chill in the air, swirling down from the north. It has been many months since Ovi took their ship and set sail, without Nicky. They both knew he was too unwell, and the village healers could not identify the disease, only that it was likely death.

The night before they left, Ovi came to Nicky’s cottage and they drank some of Ovi’s better rum. 

“Is it some kind of selkie sickness?” asked Ovi. 

“I don’t know,” said Nicky but the truth is that he did know, and he knows. 

There is a woman, who lives in a hovel, far above Nicky’s headland, in the mountain that looms over the harbour. There is, invariably, snow and the only creatures to survive there are the goats and the woman. 

Nicky set out, early one morning, and the hour’s hike took him three times as long as it should have. The path was steep and rocky and Nicky often had to stop to catch his breath.

The woman was waiting for him. She might have been expecting him. The rumours were always that she was hideous, with hair like dried straw and a face of craters and pimples, but, instead, she was perfectly average-looking and Nicky could not tell what colour her hair was under the bonnet that she wore. 

“Ah,” she said. “You loved something that did not love you back.”

Nicky nodded. “A selkie,” he said.

She clicked her tongue. “They are not the quickest off the mark,” she said. “And terrible keepers of time. She— oh, _he_ may not realise what he has done. It’s the same old story. Selkie gives pelt. Human gives heart. Selkie takes pelt back and human, well. It’s easier to live without a pelt than to live without a heart.” 

Really, she didn’t tell Nicky anything he didn’t already suspect. 

The crew have not been told and Nicky does not know if he will ever see them again. The way his eyes are fading, it seems unlikely, even if he lives long enough. 

He does not know the exact date that William gave him his pelt, memorable though it was. He wonders if he would have given it back, if he knew then what he knows now. He wonders if he would have loved William all the same, knowing that it would kill him.

Nicky thinks he will be happy, the day he dies, all the same. 

In the end, he knows the day, when it comes. His bones feel cold and he goes outside to the little bench, in front of his cottage. He brings a blanket with him. It is the quilt his mother made for him. It is the one that William liked so much. Nicky wraps it around his shoulders and he settles down to look out over the headland, even though he cannot really see the sea anymore. He can smell it though; the rich wash of salt, pungent in the autumn air. 

It is strange, really, when the world explodes in the terminal orange of Nicky’s last sunset and the last thing he sees is a vision of William, naked and wet, and falling to his knees in front of him.

~

William does not think he will make it. He has been swimming for days, ever since Ovi told him that Nicky was at home, too sick to come to sea. William does not understand the concept in the least; he does not understand that there is a place, other than the sea. 

The crew sailed the ship as far north as they could, but the winds did not cooperate and a storm was brewing and William chose to swim. 

He reaches the headland and hopes that it is the right harbour. He finds the steps, carved into the cliff and there are so many of them. He has never shed his pelt so quickly in his life; Patty would be so proud of him. 

His legs are another matter and he has never climbed stairs before. He ties his pelt around his shoulders, and Patty would be less proud of that, and he scrambles up, on all fours and he feels dizzy. He is so far above the sea but he can hear her still, just about, over the sound of his labouring breaths. 

At the top of the steps, there should be a path of stones, overgrown and uneven, leading to a house, and a house is a thing with walls and doors and windows, and doors are for opening, except William can see colours. It’s Nicky’s favourite pelt. It’s Nicky _in_ Nicky’s favourite pelt.

William didn’t think he could move faster but he does, he does. He skids to his knees just as Nicky topples forward and he shoves his pelt into Nicky’s hands. 

“It’s yours,” he says. “Nicky, Nicky, it’s yours.” 

Summoning strength he did not know he had, William half-carries, half-drags Nicky into the cottage. It is small, but much bigger than Nicky’s cabin on the ship. There is a stove, which is good, because there’s fire, but there’s also what looks like a cave of pelts in the corner. William has never seen so many pelts. Carefully, he drags Nicky to it and piles the pelts high so that he can be warm. William knows that it’s important for Nicky to be warm. 

He tucks his own pelt under Nicky’s pillow, where it belongs and where it will be safe, for as long as Nicky breathes. 

~

When Nicky wakes up, he is too warm. He is also surprised to wake up at all. 

There’s a good smell in the air, like some kind of fish cooking in spices, and there’s some toneless humming coming from the direction of the stove. Nicky struggles to his elbows and realises that all of the blankets in the cottage have been placed on top of him. 

“What?” he manages and he does not get any further because, suddenly, his arms are full of William. William who’s real and laughing (“oh, that’s what it’s supposed to sound like”) and who apparently still has an aversion to pants, as he straddles Nicky, wearing one of Nicky’s old sweaters. 

“You have to eat,” says William, firmly. “And be warm. That’s what the sea hag said.”

“The sea—”

“She said her name was Margaret—”

“My next door neighbour?” Nicky blinks, his hands gliding up William’s arms, because he’s here and his wriggling on top of Nicky and looking somewhat confused. Margaret is a widow who lives halfway down the headland and whose land stretches right up to the small garden around Nicky’s cottage. 

“She gave me a pot and told me to put it on the stove and stir it so I’ve been doing that.”

“Oh, _William_ ,” says Nicky. He is not strong enough to pull William down into his arms but William falls forward willingly, carefully placing himself beside Nicky. 

“I didn’t know,” whispers William. “I didn’t know I had to stay, but I knew I wanted to. I knew I wanted to come back” 

“You came back. You did,” says Nicky, his throat closing up a little, as his fingers find their way into William’s hair. William sighs against Nicky’s throat. 

“I gave you my pelt,” says William. “You have to keep it this time. I don't want anyone else to have it.”

“I will,” says Nicky. “Of course I will.”

He closes his eyes again because the bone-deep exhaustion hasn’t left but now he knows that he’ll awaken again, to the scent of the sea and toneless humming.


End file.
